Back, Undead and Kicking
by musical-marie
Summary: Spike's writing a letter.


Timeline/Spoilers: AtS s5 somewhere after 'A Hole In The World' and before 'The Girl In Question'  
Archive: I'll say yes, but please ask first.  
Disclaimer: I don't own anything, I just borrowed them.

A/N: I want to say thanks to my wonderful betas Beetle, Angie and KimberlyFDR and of course to Laura who helped me a lot here.

There's one word I put in brackets, please consider it crossed out, but doesn't let me do that.

**Back, Undead and Kicking**

"Dear Buffy,

I've spent a long time and a lot of paper on this. But I just thought you should hear it from me, not somebody else. Don't know what took me so long. Fear, probably. Well, it's not like it's something you do everyday, tell a person who watched you die "Sorry, love, I'm back, alive and kicking." Well, as alive as I ever was. Dead. Undead. Whatever.

But yes, that's what I am. Fully corporeal as well, thank you very much. Don't really fancy being a ghost, already tried that. It gives me the willies, that's what it does. Not being able to touch anything, no drinks, no smokes, not even… well, anything. On the plus side, the walking through walls, popping up at unexpected places, irritating people... Still, it's not anything I'd trade for having a body. It's bloody annoying not being able to get completely plastered when there's nothing in this sodding world that makes sense anymore, like why I'm not Mr. Big Pile Of Dust.

I was ready to go that day, you know. Not exactly that I wanted to, the days before that… they gave me (hope) something. But I at elsat thought going out like that would have meant something. For once in my bloody un-life I could have made a difference. Something to show that maybe, maybe there was a reason I got to 'live' when so many others ended up as nothing more than a snack, a good fight or fertilizer. No, it wouldn't have justified anything, made anything right.

Remember the time I told you that maybe I understood violence? Didn't get it then. Something opened my eyes some time ago. You've probably already met her, Watcher Junior brought her to you. A Slayer, completely unhinged. Some bloke tortured her, kept her in a cellar, killed the rest of her family. She saw my face in some dreams, thought I had been the bloke. It wasn't me (the whole torture thing was more Peaches' deal anyway), but the thing is it bloody well could have been. I might have done something like that. She cut my hands off, got them sewed on again thanks to Angel and his new connections. But even though it wasn't me, it bloody well felt like I did it. Because I destroyed families, killed for fun and I reveled in the violence, the blood, the destruction. The death. Still do. Still like giving a good beating to any nasty crosses my path. Guess that's something different, though. Maybe not. But that's not the point, the point is that I don't know the point. I don't know what to do with myself, I don't know my place in this world anymore. You gave me a place. You gave me the feeling you needed me. Did you really? Was it just pity?

I screwed up again. Let somebody get killed. Somebody who shouldn't be dead. She was the one person here who didn't treat me like nothing, like a ghost, even when I was one. She treated me like… Worked day and night to figure out how to give me my body back, nearly bloody did it, too. And then I do it again and don't manage to protect someone I swore to protect, to myself, at any rate. Even though she probably didn't need it, she was tough, that girl. Woman. Now she's dead and somebody is walking around in her body. With some slight alterations to her - colours.

For a short time somebody gave me the feeling I was needed. That I could do something, maybe something good. I was being played all the time. Bloody frustrating. Maybe I should just leave. But giving up's never really been my thing, but you probably sussed that out already.

It would have made sense to go that day. And yet a few days later I'm back. Like it was all for nothing. I couln't go back to you. What would I have done there? No more Hellmouth to trouble you, a whole lot of Slayers, a 'normal' life ahead of you. Where would I fit in? You finally got the chance to get an actual life, something you always wanted. Don't walk away from something I could get but why go crawling back somewhere I'm not needed, not wanted? Or maybe I am… yet I can't just come waltzing into your life after the way I so gloriously went out of it. Sure you're doing fine. You're the strongest person I've ever known. No matter how many Slayers are around now, you will always be the One for me. The Chosen One. No matter if you want it or not, that's what you are.

So how's Dawn doing these days? Kinda miss her sometimes. She's also going to be one hell of a woman when she's grown up.  
I know I should probably have told you earlier. I really should have. Wanted to let you know that I still love you, nothing changed in that department. Don't know, maybe we'll meet again som-"

"Oh bugger this!" Spike said, crumpled up the paper and threw it onto the growing pile of paper balls in and around the waste-paper basket.


End file.
